


Silent Night- BTS Mafia!AU

by Neverland1113



Category: Korean Actor RPF, Lee Dongwook - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), Boss Min Yoongi | Suga, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gangs, Girls with Guns, Human Trafficking, Jeon Jungkook is Whipped, Kim Namjoon | RM is Whipped, Kim Seokjin | Jin is Whipped, Kim Taehyung | V is Whipped, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mafia Bangtan Boys | BTS, Major Original Character(s), Maybe - Freeform, Mental Anguish, Mild Gore, Min Yoongi | Suga Has Mental Health Issues, Min Yoongi | Suga is Bad at Feelings, Minor Original Character(s), Molestation, Multi, Porn With Plot, Psychopaths In Love, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trust Issues, Victim Blaming, Violence, bonnie and clyde relationships, ride or die pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverland1113/pseuds/Neverland1113
Summary: [Okay, the summary is still a work in progress because I SUCK at summaries]Shadows stalk Seoul at night. Shadows with power behind them. Glaring power and money. The underworld is ruled by Lee Sangbum, Mafia mogul extraordinaire.When his adoptive daughter slaughters him, the entire mafia world is shook. Sangbum's friends have sworn revenge on the girl.Barely an adult and shivering from abuse, she tries to find shelter with Bangtan. But Min Yoongi is skeptical, taking in an enemy of the largest mafia would result in danger for him and his brethren.He refuses the trembling girl's demand to be allowed into the second most powerful mafia in Seoul, nay, the world. The girl decides to show she will not be deadweight. That she can be more than just an abused, pathetic husk.So she sets out to rid Bangtan of their enemies to gain protection from her own.Bonnie and Clyde would have trembled before the unsaid feelings which erupt between Psychopath Assassin Suga and the rising criminal Goyohan Bam, otherwise known as Silent Night, responsible for taking down the leader of the strongest mafia in a fit of childish tantrums.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Original Character(s), Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Park Jimin/Original Character(s), Lee Dong Wook/You, Min Yoongi | Suga & Original Character(s), Park Jimin/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> I've not read much Mafia stuff nor have i read much Yoongi stuff but this idea has been in my head for half a year and i finally have the guts to write. Hopefully, you will enjoy this story just as much as i am enjoying writing it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two murders are committed in the same night by two vastly different people, who belong in the same world.

_Stop, now let's begin  
You're in too deep to go back again._

He smiles, kneeling close to the other, so smooth and cold, chilled by the night, and presses a kiss to their palm, open mouthed and warm. A low hum in his throat, in his chest. A happy murmur.

 _Cash, it's pay-to-play_ _  
You want more hits than a lemonade._

He sits back on his haunches, eyeing the other with a silent smile, resting his forearms on his knees. The wind whips around him, platinum silver hair flying around with all abandon. He loves this night, the silence, the warmth in his body. The coldness in the other’s. How he can cancel them out, take their cold and give his warmth.

_No, you don't own me,  
You don't even know me,  
Who, this vagabond,  
With a two-part path to the great beyond_

He tucks the cassette player into his pocket, the handmade “ _Burn It”_ sticker crinkling again as the device is shoved roughly into his jeans. The song keeps playing, one earphone tucked into his collar the other pouring music to rein his wild thoughts.

_And when they play it, you can't help but sing along  
That's nothin' odd, that's nothin' wrong_

He hums along the tune and runs a hand against the cold cheek. Their eyes are wide, still. Absolutely still. They don’t blink when he pulls out the knife from their shoulder and wipes the blood on his jeans, the don’t whimper when he pulls another knife from their thigh and tucks its blade back in. The song’s bridge sends a rush down his spine. How he loves this music. His lips stretch into a smile, revealing his gums and pure glee.  
He pulls out one final knife from right under their pectoral, a serrated edged, wicked blade. Pink soft flesh clings to it which he flicks off with his thumb and forefinger. Blood dribbles from the opening he carved into the human in front of him. He idly rubs his bloodied hands on his coat, the black swallowing the infernal red.   
There is a small diner down the road, about half a mile from the clearing where he stands. Hopefully they serve a good hamburger. Did he have his purse? He has it. Hamburger it is then.

The song is coming to its end. This mixtape has his favourite songs. The cassette player is tucked safely into his pocket. He has pulled on his gloves, though it will not matter much in a few hours. 

_'Cause a good song never dies  
It just reminds you of where you were  
The first time it made you cry, the first time you felt alive_

The clothes are drenched in the flammable liquid. He is good at this part. He _enjoys_ this part. To watch the body get swallowed in licks of orange and red and yellow and a million shades in between. He tosses the white lighter onto the body, watching it catch fire immediately, warming him up in a way the adrenaline and blood never could.

_No, a good song never  
Dies._

“Yoongi, let’s go,” he is being called. He turns and gives his gummy smile.  
“Yeah, I’ll treat you all,” he says checking his purse for cash. "Hamburgers and steaks."  
The blonde-haired man who called him swings an arm around his shoulder.   
The body burns to oblivion and ashes behind the seven.

* * *

In another part of Seoul, in the lavish apartment complex owned by Lee Sangbum, murder is committed. Blood gurgles from the wound in his throat, dark red and smooth. Smoother than water. Thicker.

Her “father” stares at her with unseeing eyes, two thin lines of red dripping from the corners of his mouth. She steps back from the recliner. The one in which her murdered father now sits. Will probably sit till he is moved by someone else.

_No, a good song never  
Dies._

Music plays in the apartment, bouncing off the immaculate walls. Her breathing is easy, her mind is alert. Battle cold. Except she just killed a man in his sleep. She killer her father in his sleep.

The enormity of the situation is slowly dawning on her.

The hand holding the knife trembles, the blood-slick blade almost slipping to the floor. The front of her flimsy satin nightwear is stained from the blood squirting out of the man, reddish-brown dots against silver.

 _I look like a koi._ She thinks absentmindedly.

Her nails look amazing stained with dark red. How beautiful would she look if stained all over with it? Against the tan, golden skin, dark red would look amazing.

She flees into the night wearing her red dress. The dress which was so carefully put on her body and then peeled off of her skin by one and the same person.

Her father had put it on so carefully on her for her 19th birthday and removed it so roughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a reader insert but i prefer my reader to be anonymous or have a nickname instead of Y/n. Third person POVs are easier for me to handle so I apologise to anyone who is not used to third person reader inserts.
> 
> In case anyone is wondering about the song Suga's cassette is playing, it is "A Good Song Never Dies" by Saint Motel.


	2. Red Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee Sangbum has one weakness. An 18-year old girl who he has locked up like Rapunzel. She is being let out to meet the world for the first time. And not just any world. The Underworld. Sangbum loves her. She fears him. The dynamics of their relationship is changing. They are no longer Guardian and Ward. They are something more. And she is not sure she likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lee Dongwook as Lee Sangbum in this story. He is my ideal dream cast for Sangbum.]
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Please do not read if you get triggered by elements of child molestation, rape, violence, blood, abandonment etc. This chapter may contain implications of past abuse/child abandonment/human trafficking etc.

Sangbum loves her. Aye, he does. She’s the apple of his eye. She’s his everything. He remembers when he first got her. When she was a wee little girl of eleven. All big eyes and ruddy cheeks and thin pre-pubescent body.

 _She grew up so fast. Eighteen already._ He sighs and straightens the Windsor knot at his neck. Fairly easy to undo. He looks in the mirror. A handsomely sharp face gazes back at him. Dark brown hair, heavy lidded eyes, high cheekbones and full pink lips. Really, anyone looking at him would have found him insanely handsome at thirty-seven.

He checks his watch, a gold Daytona. He was going to gift her one too, a pretty rose gold number. She would like that. Yes, she would like anything from him, and expensive things were always welcome. They were to have dinner at the annual banquet, tonight. She must be ready by now. He wanted to show her off to the world. Especially to his enemies and allies. 

He steps out of his room, looking immaculate in his tailored suit. The most feared crime lord, mob boss. Call it what you want to. One of the most powerful men in the eastern hemisphere at the moment.

Knocking at her door, he waits, to greet his little girl. All his. No one else’s. And now she was old enough for what he had planned. He smiles a self-satisfactory smile and waits. She opens the door a moment later, wearing-

“Why aren’t you dressed?” He frowns. She stands there in jeans and a white shirt, looking distraught.  
“I don’t know what to wear,” she says, lower lip trembling. Would this be one of the times she has made him unhappy? Will he hit her?

She flinches away from the door when he raises a hand. But no, he is just touching her hair, stroking it. He pulls her into an embrace, “How about I find you something to wear? Then we won’t be late.”

She nods, her shoulders are stiff and her heart is beating faster. There is banquet tonight. She has been told to dress up. But Miranda is not here to help her with dresses. She has never decided a dress for herself. She just wears whatever he wants her to wear. Sangbum, that is.

She knows he isn’t her father. She saw her actual father throw her in the orphanage and he was a man in his mid-forties. Sangbum was much younger, richer, more handsome. Young enough that she had called him “oppa” in the beginning. Till he became her guardian and legally her adoptive father. He doted on her, sickeningly so.  
But sometimes… sometimes she would fuck up. And he would lose his temper. He would hurt her. That was bad, but it was punishment. She made mistakes so she must learn from them now.

She pressed back against the wall, letting Sangbum step in. He opened her closet riffling through dresses and shirts and jeans and jackets. Then sighed and let the door close.

“Nothing here looks good enough, doll,” his shoulders are lax. She flinches and wonders what to say.  
“I could find-“  
“I have a dress for you, I had thought to save it for your birthday but now, I think you should wear it.” He turns to her, smiling. He looks angelic when he smiles. That’s what makes it hard to hate him. Because he does love her in some twisted way, or so she thinks. He put his chin on her shoulder.  
“Do you wanna see it?” His voice is low, inviting.

“Yes,” she replies, meekly. His cologne permeates her senses. He even smells good.

“Let’s get you dressed then,” he holds her shoulders and steers her to his room. She walks, if only to stop him from pushing her insistently forward. She doesn’t like how his fingers are digging into her shoulder, it’s painful, but she stays quiet.

They reach his room, almost identical to hers. He goes into his closet and pulls out a cloth bag. Unzipping it, he pulls out a dress. Red. Red as blood, with thin strings crossing across her chest and shoulders.

“Do you like it?” He asks, eyes twinkling. He does love her. He gives her gifts, he gives her food, he kept her when her own father sold her off to pay his debts. She nods and smiles.

“Why don’t you take off your clothes then?” He says in the same light tone, grinning. The smile falls from her face.  
“H-Here?”  
“Well, I would like to see you in this dress, now wouldn’t i?” He frowns slightly, tilting his head. She looks at him and then nods.  
“Could you turn aro-around?” Why is her voice trembling?! _Stop trembling!!  
_ “Oh, so you wanna hide from _me?_ When I’ve seen you at your worse?” He raises his eyebrows. “It’s alright, I’ll leave in fact.” There is hurt in his voice when he turns to exit the room.

“No- wait!” She tugs at the sleeve of his coat. “S-stay. It’s fine.”

He turns and sighs, “Sometimes, I’m worried you don’t know just how much I love you.” Large hands cup her face. They’re warm against her cold skin.

“Now, take off your clothes, and I will help you put your gift on, hmm?” She nods. He kisses her forehead.

With trembling fingers, she undoes her shirt buttons, then drops the white article on a nearby couch.  
“The dress is strapless, take off your bra,” he says stepping closer and holding the dress for her to see. Her eyes flick up to his, finding them still waiting, anticipating. He is making her strip in essence. She knows it’s wrong. But she doesn’t want to displease him.  
When she makes no move, he turns her around and unclasps the hook, sliding it off her arms, just the tiniest bit of fingers brushing her arms. Goosebumps run over her skin and she flinches when his hands dip lower to her jeans unbuttoning them.  
“Are you scared?” He asks.  
She does not answer.

“I asked are you scared? Scared I will hurt you right now?” He grabs her hips and turns her to face him.  
She shakes her head.  
“Good, I am in a good mood today,” he says, pulling down her jeans, hands skimming her thighs. She shivers with each touch, suppressing whimpers. It feels weird. A man who is her guardian. Her supposed step-father by all means. It’s wrong to be standing in front of him in partial nudity.

But she does not want to displease him, now does she?

He slips the dress over her. It fits perfectly, the open neckline suiting her well. There are net sleeves, no- lace. Lace running down the length of her arms, no shoulders, just strings, the dress itself falling mid-thigh. Not too short. Almost demure if not for the infernal blood colour.

“Oh, right. Almost forgot!” he smacks his forehead. “I got you something else too,” he pulls open one of the drawers of his nightstand. There is a sheath in his hand. About the size of her palm. Maybe a bit longer. The sheath had buckles attached to it.

With no warning, he kneels in front of her. Dark brown eyes stare into her, when she steps back startled. His lips are parted and she feels a longing in herself. She both loathes how much he scares her and loves him in this moment. His fingers slip under her dress, close to the hem of her underwear. He basically saw her naked right now, so does it even matter? She let him see her, so now he has the pass to touch her unwarranted?

She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, his fingers working the buckles close around her thigh, the warm hands brushing shamelessly against the soft skin on the inside of her leg, close to her where she definitely didn’t want him to touch her.

“That’s a switch blade,” he tells her. “Like the one I taught you to use, same design. Just prettier. Where we are going tonight, that place is full of dangerous people. I know you are good with that blade. Put it to good use if someone tries to touch you,” he towers over her.

Conflicting emotions cross her mind, gratitude, anger, shame and fear. And under all this the constant telling of her mind to _flee. To get away from here. Something big and bad is coming._

He is leading her to his car. Holding her waist instead of her hand like usual. Like she is his escort instead of his ward.

“Let’s go meet the Underworld, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah chapter 1 dooooone. I hope you like it. I know the story is slow and our BTS boys are nowhere to be seen yet but YOU WILL SEE THEM SOOOOON.  
> Also, are you liking Sangbum? Does he make you both fear and desire him? Maybe I am biased because in my head he is... well hot.


	3. Directive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Annual Banquet, our main character comes face to face with Sangbum's biggest rivals. Bangtan. A septet which was rapidly rising to the top of the underworld hierarchy despite their obvious youth.  
> When asked for a dance by the most handsome member of Bangtan, she cannot refuse, and out of politeness has to dance with the charming Kim Taehyung.  
> Taehyung, on noticing her furtive glances and anxiety on being separated from Sangbum deduces the not everything is alright with the girl. She looks uncomfortable in her own skin.  
> Taehyung makes an offer that might change her whole life.  
> At the same time Lee Sangbum has plans for her which may ruin any chance of freedom she has.
> 
> Two choices lie in front of her, none of them seeming very good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lee DongWook as Lee Sangbum and his twin, Lee Sangyeon. They are both fictional and have no relation to any kpop idols or actors. Lee Dongwook is simply the dreamcast. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy our girl's introduction to Bangtan!!!!!!

* * *

The Banquet is to take place in the Autumn Hall at Four Seasons. The hotel oozes extravagance and so do the multitude of expensive sedans, depositing men and women, escorts and millionaires, families, even a few sets of kids.

She has been silent the whole ride, which lasted about an hour. Sangbum sits too close to her, making her feel jittery, her knees weak, palms sweating. The material of her dress isn’t absorbent and she is too nervous to make any sudden moves, like stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. He keeps a hand on her knee the whole time, one leg crossed over the other in the ample leg space of the car, the paragon of ease and comfort.

She despises him for how easily he sits, how gracefully he holds himself. She wishes she were like him. Wishes that these new developments between Sangbum and her would stop unsettling her. These idle caresses, making her strip back there, acting all possessive over her. She mustn’t think about it or it would be sure to drive her insane with trembling anticipation and anxiety.

He shifts closer to her, his arm along the length of hers, warm and hard. Unyielding, like all of him. He squeezes her knee once before getting out of the car, then helping her out. She feels awkward, it’s been so long since she has attended any party of sorts with actual people and not just business meetings where Sangbum had made her sit and watch him talk or, occasionally, help him with some presentation. She saw two girls-siblings- running around their father, a man of middle age, maybe ten years or so older than Sangbum. Beside him his wife stood, smiling and sending rebuttals to her daughters.

 _How is everyone so… at ease?_ She takes a few steps when he offers her his arm. She takes it gratefully, wanting some solid support and Sangbum is more than solid enough. Despite all the easy demeanours of the guests, everyone turns to look at Sangbum. Even the two girls stop their antics in order to see what has caused everyone to go stock-still. Sangbum gives everyone a polite nod and leads her inside, to the Autumnal Hall.

It’s cavernous to say the least. There is a live band in one corner of the room, playing soft jazz at the moment. A grand piano sits there, commandeered by a small woman. She isn’t playing yet though. She will play when the dances begin.

“Alright, this is where we will socialise. This may look like a party but that is all guise for the actual stuff. Illegal stuff. I can trust you, right sweetheart?” he turns to look at her.

“Yes, of course,” her throat catches at the end after sitting in silence for so long. He nods and puts an arm at her waist, leaning in towards her head, inhaling deeply. She shudders under his breath. And though she cannot see it, Sangbum is wearing a devilish smile.

They sit at a table with Sangbum’s name written in gold Hangul on place cards. She is served soup and some light appetisers. Sangbum himself eats nothing, but puts some food on her plate, motioning for her to eat.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Sangbum tensing up when seven men enter into the hall. Almost all seats are occupied except for one table, some distance from theirs. They are dressed in suits, but not the traditional black and white. The tallest of them, with ashy grey-green hair wears a naval-style jacket. Another, this one orange-haired, wears a flower-print. Which is at pleasant odds with his flamboyant hair.

They all wear an air casualness. Except one, who looks almost as uncomfortable as she herself feels. The one with black hair, snowy skin and a murderous glare. Or so she thinks. The blue-grey leaves printed on his suit seem to shift with each movement. She notices when the one with silver hair pats his shoulder in a comforting gesture and he seems to relax a bit. All the chairs in the hall face a podium. Someone will be addressing everyone later. For now, everyone is mingling. The seven men who entered late seem to be fan favourites. All the people in the hall pay their table a visit.

Sangbum looks in the direction of the men, then turns back to his own posse, jaw clenching once in suppressed emotion. He answers the question when someone asks him who the seven young men are.  
“Bangtan,” he says. “Those upstarts. They wouldn’t have gotten invited if it hadn’t been for the incident last year.” He dismisses the next question when asked _what incident?_

The two girls whom she had seen earlier had plucked two flowers from the decorations and now were offering them to the young man with pale blond hair. His face lights up in a rectangular smile. Such delight relaxes her a bit. If people can bring kids here and pass such easy smiles maybe this won’t be as bad as she thought. The blond man’s eyes meet hers. She freezes, like a deer in headlights.

The piano starts playing. Bach, perhaps. She doesn’t know, there hasn’t been much music in her life until very recently. Sangbum is talking to some of the men and women who were now sitting at their table. He pays her no attention except for his large palm which rests on her thigh, at the place where her dress ends and her skin starts. He talks and talks and talks, while everyone else listens.

Not for the first time, she realises how much power he wields, how he can easily command the attention of some of the most powerful people in the underworld. The woman sitting across from her- Tatiana Kuznetsova- is responsible for smuggling missile codes and arms in the Soviet-Afghan skirmishes. The woman’s dark hair and icy blue eyes remind her of a wolf. The man next to her, Amir Last-Name-she-cannot-pronounce owns almost an entire city in Saudi Arabia, brokering real estates and escaping all law in the middle east. This is a convention of criminals and lords.

Where had she heard it? In some movie, some kids’ movie. _Steal an apple and you’re a thief. Steal a kingdom and you’re a statesman._ She couldn’t remember the movie but that was it. They were all thieves here. Except her.

The blond man who caught her eyes grins and waves to her. She raises a hand in response. Maybe it was a hallucination but Sangbum’s hand tightened just the slightest amount on her thigh, which sent a bout of goosebumps running along her legs. The sheath under her dress is uncomfortably digging into the soft flesh. She would have to adjust it later or it would bruise.

Couples flit to the floor. Sangbum finally eats some small fish fingers then wipes his mouth and gets up.

“Care to dance with me?” She turns her face to meet his eyes and they are soft, kind. He is capable of kindness. He has shown her this over many years. But these days it’s different. He holds out his hand. She slips her own into his, small and soft whereas his is long fingered, all bone and sinew. He leads her to the floor and pulls her close, moving slowly as the music allows. She can’t help but lean into him. For all the times he terrifies her, he is still the one with whom she feels safe. His hand is a bit lower on her waist than what is warranted. But she doesn’t mind. No, in this moment, she feels something close to love for her Guardian.

They dance through two songs, where he twirls her once and dips her. She is flushed, her feet unsteady. She is not good at dancing. Terrible at it. He knows it. He takes it slow. He is good at dancing. Very good, in fact. He doesn’t object even when she steps on his toes and mumbles apologies.

“Shush, let me enjoy,” he says softly. They are both smiling.

The blond man from the fan-favourite table gets up. He is intrigued by the young woman who both looks terrified of Lee Sangbum and can yet smile as he twirls her around the room. The piano has come to a halt, the pianist stretching her fingers. He looks back at Yoongi who in turn is staring at the grand piano with uncensored lust. A minute more and drool will drip out of his mouth.

 _Hyung is more likely to make love to a piano than an actual person._ The thought makes him snigger. He then resumes his approach towards the girl. Lee Sangbum cannot turn him down if he asks for a dance with her, not if he wants to keep his face.

“Taehyung?” The silver haired man tugs at his sleeve.  
“Just going for a dance, Jiminie hyung,” he waves at his friend. Jimin lets go of his jacket and turns back, talking earnestly to a brown haired-man with slight bunny teeth.

He finally walks up to the pair. “Sangbum-ssi.” His voice is deep. Deep, formal and respectful. Sangbum is holding her close to him, almost shielding her from the other man. Half his body is angled over hers. She is trying to look over his shoulder without drawing much attention to herself.

Taehyung is mildly shocked to see how young she is. Still adolescent. He raises his eyebrows, then meets Sangbum’s eyes.  
“May I have a dance with her?”  
Sangbum studies him for a moment. “Careful. She is not very good at dancing.” He makes no move to let her go.  
“I think I can handle a few stumbles,” Taehyung smiles but it isn’t his rectangular smile. He holds out his hand. For her to take.

Sangbum turns to her and quickly whispers something in her ear. Then smiles and gives Taehyung her hand, the one he has been clutching tightly since the blond approached them. Taehyung exhales in relief when Sangbum goes and sits back at their table, talking idly to Tatiana, but very obviously keeping an eye on his girl.

“He’s terrifying, isn’t he?” he says to her. She looks at him then shakes her head.  
“No? You do seem scared of him though,” he is probing and prodding, wanting to see how much she can take before she gives up and returns to her refuge/prison. She is very obviously property. And Lee Sangbum is notoriously knows to keep his properties safe and secluded.  
“How old are you?” He slips a hand around her waist. Barely touching her but enough to guide her through the steps of the dance. The band has started playing again. Some waltz. Taehyung looks over and sees his dark-haired hyung sitting at the piano seat, the pianist beside him, both of them smiling and playing together.

One of the few things which make Min Yoongi smile these days.

“I turn nineteen in a few days,” she says.  
“That’s not too far,” Taehyung tells her. “Maybe I could send a present along your way. What date?” He flashes her his rectangular smile. Butterflies erupt in her stomach. He looks ethereal with the blond hair falling across his forehead like the softest of down feathers. She used to think Sangbum was the most handsome she has ever seen, but Taehyung has him beat by far. He literally glows. Even his pale gold skin seems to shimmer. Although that might be make-up. His eyes are a striking blue colour. She gulps, anxiety gripping her throat. Dancing with Sangbum was one thing. He knows all her stumbles and falls. But this handsome man who is touching her far more gently than her guardian has done in days is making her tremble and miss her steps more. She steps on his toes twice and though, he winces, says nothing.

“21st,” she says almost inaudibly. “21st November.”  
“That’s fairly soon,” he tells her gently; they relapse back into awkward silence and awkward dancing. 

It is on her third step on his toes, when he winces and says, “Why are you so nervous?” Right next to her ear. She flinches and remembers what Sangbum had just whispered.  
 _If there is less than four inches between you both, I will kill him._

She pushes him away and stumbles back, startled. He catches her by the elbow. She straightens, then offers her hand to him again. He takes it again and they continue dancing. She can sense all the questions he has. She can also sense Sangbum’s eyes on her, an omnipresent sign of caution.

“You can go ahead and ask what you want to,” she begins. “I will answer to the best of my abilities.”  
“Hmm, do you know BTS?” he asks, twirling her in a loose circle. Her dress doesn’t flair out, but she likes to fancy that it does.   
“BTS… No, I don’t.”  
“Bangtan Sonyeondan. That’s the, well, mafia I am member of,” he says. “We are Sangbum’s rivals if that interests you.”  
Her interest piques at that. _Sangbum acknowledges them as rivals meaning they must be substantially strong._  
“But you’re so… young,” she says.  
He tilts his head, regarding her with mirth, “I often find youth to be crueller in this business.”

They dance through one more song. Her feet are hurting now, despite wearing low heels. She wants more than anything to sit and have a glass of water.

“I don’t know your name,” she says through fast breaths.  
“V. But you can call me Taehyung,” he answers, looking not the least bit worn out from all their dancing. “Tired?” he pulls them to a halt.  
She nods, taking deep breaths through her nose. “Do you want water?”  
“Yes, please.” He nods and motions for one of the servers carrying bottles over to them. He takes one for himself then as he is handing her the other bottle he begins speaking quickly, urgently.

“He is abusing you. He has been doing it for a long time. You have just learnt to live with it. This is not normal, kid. Get out of there. Come to us. We can keep you safe.” She freezes hearing the words _abuse_ and _get out._  
“Come w-where,” her voice cracks and she hates that it makes her sound afraid. She is not. For the first time in a long time. She isn’t afraid. She is stirred into action.  
“Come to Bangtan. You’ll be safe.”

He hands her the bottle and leaves after giving her a rueful smile.

===========================

At Bangtan’s table, the grey-green haired man turns to Taehyung, who is frowning as he sits down at his assigned place.  
“Tae?”  
“There is clear abuse. There are bruises on her wrists. Visible through lace. Namjoon hyung we need to get her out.” His eyes are shining. With tears or anger, Namjoon is not sure. Tae is an easily emotional person.  
“Remember she is not a rescue mission.” The deep voice of Min Yoongi drawls. Now that he has been separated from the beloved piano, he wears a sullen, anxious look again. Taehyung knows he has at least two knives and a gun on his person now. Slipped into the boots, the gun tucked into his waistband, covered easily by the suit jacket. Min Yoongi is paranoid, but it has its uses.

“He’s right. We must not get blindsided by whatever state she might be in. She is just leverage to get our hands on Lee Sangbum’s wealth. Overtake him,” the pink haired man says. _Jin,_ his name card reads. “Once we are done, she can go back to Sangbum in one piece.”

The other six nod and settle down, tucking into the dinner served to them in covered plates. The address will be soon- after dinner and before hard drinks. Where Lee Sangbum will endorse himself as the strongest to partner with and try to forge new alliances. Bangtan has been cornering most of the black market lately with Hoseok’s uncanny eye for the businesses and deals.

Unbeknownst to them, cornering the black market is far from Sangbum’s mind at the moment. No, he is planning the murder of Kim Namjoon. Bangtan’s leader and perhaps the most dangerous piece on the board at the moment. The youngster is cunning, cruel but more than that, he is cautious. Very cautious. He is the reins on the wild-unbridled horse that is the rest of Bangtan. Taehyung looks over his shoulder at the girl. She sits beside Sangbum and underneath the table he can see the older man’s hand gripping her thigh. She seems to be deep in thought, her expression not changing the least even when she rises and follows Sangbum to the podium. Still deep in thought, when he clears his throat and addresses the crowd, telling them of new laws being imposed to curb all the racketeering. He looks born to lead. Even Bangtan listens closely to what he says, there is a lot of new information they weren’t aware of.

“Alright, I would like to end the address now, no point keeping it long and boring,” he chuckles and there is laughter from all the tycoons and other mafia sitting in the hall. “Oh, yeah, before I forget. I would like to announce my marriage.”  
Even Yoongi looks up at that. Were they wrong? If Sangbum is marrying someone does that mean the girl won’t be leverage?

Sungbum slips a hand around her waist and pulls her forward. “This is my fiancée. We will be getting married in a few months’ time. Invitations will be sent, of course. Please, do attend.” He smiles and there are some audible crows of dissent from some of the women in the crowd. She snaps out of her daze then looking at him with pure terror. Taehyung is half-way out of his seat when Yoongi jerks him down.

He swallows and sits down.

“We are very excited to embark on this together and hope to have your well-wishes,” he gives a small bow, a little inclination of his head, and gets off the stage pulling the girl behind him. She seems limp as a ragdoll, cries of protest sitting unsaid on her tongue.

Her eyes meet Tahyung’s as she is pulled to her seat. Her eyes are blown wide open, she opens her mouth to say something to him. To maybe say “yes” to his offer, or maybe her mouth open to cry “help me”. Taehyung never knows, because Sangbum leads her out of the hall after picking up their coats.

Her breaths are coming out in half-choked, suppressed sobs.  
“What’s wrong, my love?” Sangbum cups her face once they’re outside. The mascara she had carefully put on herself was bleeding onto the rest of her face as tears escape.

“ _Sang..marry..”_ She mumbles, trying to pull herself out of his grasp. His hands tighten, not letting her go.  
“I will m-marry you?” She is crying openly now, breaths coming quicker and shallower.  
“Well, yes. Isn’t it obvious? I love you,” he steps closer. “No one loves you more than me, baby.”  
She swallows thickly. “ _I don’t….to. I don’t w-want to…”_

His eyes darken. “What did you say?” His voice is low, not betraying the tight call of hurt he feels in his chest. She says it again. “I d-don’t want to, Sangbum.” She is pleading with him. She always pleads with him. He has had enough.

“Really? You’re going to say no to me?” Their car pulls up, but Sangbum makes no move to get in. His fingers are digging into the skin of her jaw, her neck. It hurts. “After everything I do for you. You have the audacity to say no to me?” His voice is still even, almost worried.  
“But you’re supposed to be my guardian,” her sobs are quieted but she sniffles with each word.  
“You’re an adult legally and we are not related by blood. I am not your father,” he spits the f-word with as much malice as he could. “I am you future husband, do you understand me?”

She tries stepping away again, but Sangbum is everywhere. His hands are skimming her back, her cheek, her jaw. And she is hating every second of it. Any of the women in the hall would have loved to be touched by him in such manner but all she can feel is sick disgust.

He shoves her into the car and climbs in.  
“Raise the barrier,” he orders the chauffeur, who does it in mute agreement. The tinted Plexiglas slides up between the pair and the other man. She scoots away from him terrified. He is undoing his tie savagely, yanking it off his neck, unbuttoning the top two buttons. She can see the pale skin of his throat and feels hot all over. He turns to her and stares.

Under his scrutinising gaze, it is all she can do to not try and become one with the car seat. He leans over to her. She meets his eyes then looks away. “You don’t want me?” He is almost pleading.  
She looks at him again and his brow is furrowed in genuine confusion.  
He settles back down. “I don’t get it… I have done everything for you since I got you. I brought you all the gifts you wanted. I taught you how to fight. I protected you. So _why can’t I have this in return_?” His eyes are dangerously bright.

She is gnawing at her lips, when he suddenly pulls her close and kisses her.

All his burning warmth bleeding from him and into her. And she doesn’t want any of it. Taehyung’s rueful smile flashes in her mind and she pushes him back harshly. His back hits the car door. He doesn’t look up.  
‘Is it because of the blond bastard? Are you swooning over him?” He growls. “Do you think he is better than me?”

This time when their eyes meet, she feels like dying. Dying, for clear rage twists his handsome features into a mask of cruelty.

“Oppa, that’s not- “he grabs her throat, pressing back her head against the cold glass. Her breathing stops as his fingers squeeze her trachea. He shifts closer to her, till they’re almost aligned. He is settled between her splayed legs and enjoying every bit of it. Tears drip from her eyes, her throat trying unsuccessfully to get air, but he’s simply to string and squeezing too hard. Dark spots develop in her vision, marring the image of his pale face, when he lets go and pulls her to him. She is gasping and sobbing against his chest. He murmurs apologies, low rumbles she can feel through his chest. Her throat hurts with each swallow of her sobs in an effort to quiet down. He is stroking her hair, still apologising.

“You must understand, I- I am a bad man, and you’re so good I have to protect you from bastards like him.” He pulls her entire body into his lap, her legs and his own intermingling. Sharing warmth.

What he says next makes her heart freeze with dread.

“I am going to erase all fingerprints that bastard has left on you tonight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this chapter to be like 1k words but.... it's 4k so enjoyyyy  
> and thank you so much for reading!! And if you like this story do leave kudos~  
> What do you think about Sangbum and our main character i.e reader? I think she's very spineless right now but i am very curious to see how she evolves.  
> P.S. the draft hasn't really been beta'd so please bear with me if there are any spelling or grammar errors.


	4. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter we see Sangbum saying he was going to erase all fingerprints from her body. Trembling with fear the entire car ride, our heroine musters the courage up to refuse him. Does she refuse? Or does she give in to whatever sinister thoughts Sangbum has in mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Non-consensual/dubious consent
> 
> Alright. Unless someone explicitly says "yes" you are to not touch another person. Silence doesn't mean yes. Maybe doesn't mean yes. No, doesn't mean yes. 
> 
> Only YES means YES

* * *

He has pulled her almost all the way into his lap. As though, even an inch of space between them is wasted resource. His body heat envelops her, which is only serving for the tight ball of panic in her chest to tighten. His arm is curled around her shoulder; she makes no moves to remove it or to try to get away. She doesn’t want her already throbbing throat to be hurt even worse. This was not the first time she had felt the full force of Sangbum’s lean musculature. But each of those other times had been training. Sparring.

He had never been filled with rage like this before, never squeezed so hard, before. Never touched her like tonight at all before. Despite all her efforts to stop herself from crying, the occasional sniffle escaped her; which he largely ignored. The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow. As they were getting closer to the apartment complex, trembles began taking over her, the beginnings of a panic attack. Sangbum knew that well, knew she would be a shaking, sobbing mess in a little more time. He held her tighter. Physical reassurance was usually the only thing that calmed her. That, and he didn’t trust himself to speak steadily at the moment, given how close all the exposed skin and her shivering body was.

The complex gates swung open on their arrival. With hysteria threating to spill the longer she was in this awful silence, she opens her mouth to speak, to apologise, _something. Nothing comes out._

She simply stands gaping like a goldfish unable to form words when Sangbum’s arm slips around her waist as the elevator ascends. Low on her waist. He types in the code for their apartment, swinging the door open with an angry push of his arm, his proprietary hold never once ceasing.

Finally, the awful silence is broken by the man himself.  
“You understand why I’m doing this, right? It’s for your own good. I cannot have you get hurt by one of Bangtan. They know you’re my weakness.” He says, walking to the couch, leaving her standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

He crosses his leg over his knee and stares at her, for a moment.

“Come,” he beckons.

She looks at him. This scene is familiar. This scene has played out many times. This is the part where he tells her he loves her. Where he calls her a good girl. Where he strokes her head. And whatever mistake she might have made is forgotten and they move on to the next minute, the next day, the next gift.

“Sit,” he says uncrossing his legs.

The scene is wrong. This doesn’t happen. The familiarity is gone now. Comforting _déjà vu_ dissolving into uncertainty.

He pats his leg and waits for her to come. Sit. Obey.

She does. She sits.

The muscle in his leg is taut under her, but the rest of him is sprawled easily, uncaring, unaffected. But his expression is not filled with the same swagger.

“Where did he touch you?” He asks her simply, no infliction in his voice.  
“We just danced..” she says.  
“That was not my question, sweetheart. Where did he touch you?” He smirks a little, which makes her flinch, but his hand is there at the small of her back, keeping her in place.  
“W-waist. H-hands.” She stutters.  
“That’s it?”  
She nods, quickly. He makes her feel pathetic and she knows it… and she loathes it.

“Alright,” he removes his hand from her, resting it on the armrest. “Let’s erase all that alright? And get you out of these clothes. The bastard touched them.” He motions for her to get up.

She complies. “C’mon, clothes off. I have to throw them away,” he says, discarding his purse and mobile on the coffee table.  
“Throw?” Her voice is small. She loves the dress. And she’d rather that he gives it away to someone than throw away such a ridiculously expensive thing.  
“Well, I don’t want you to wear it again.”  
“But… you gifted it to me. And I love it.” She says, the gears in her head turning and feeding her sentences.  
“I can get you another.” He undoes his Rolex and tosses that too.  
“But this was the one _you_ liked first. So, I want to keep it.” She says, keeping her chin high and her voice steady.

He looked at her then, when her voice raised out of the meek little whisper. The pouted lips, giving way to exposed skin, barely covered by the coat which she still hadn’t taken off.  
And look what we have there, she was standing _against_ his decision by using _his own_ gestures. All he could think now was having her talk to him like this when they were finally together.

He didn’t know when he started thinking of her as not his ward, but a future lover, but the need to kiss her was so strong in the moment, he did nothing to suppress it.

He surges forward, hands sliding and cupping her waist, his mouth covering hers. A squeak escapes her, which only serves to arouse him more. The heels, they make her stumble and she falls right into his arms.

He knows Kim Taehyung must have offered her to go with him. With them. Bangtan. Telling her that he would protect her from Sangbum. She didn’t need protection from _him._ He loves her. And those stuck-up younglings just want her to make Sangbum vulnerable and to further their own interests.

But she doesn’t have to know all this. No, she can be content knowing he loves her. And he will show her now, how much he loves her.

“Sangbum,” she gasps when he lets go of her.  
“Clothes off. Now. You can keep whatever the fuck you want,” he says, breathing hard, voice almost a growl.  
He pushes off her coat, which falls to the ground with a muffled _thunk_.

He had seen a sliver of skin this evening when she had changed her clothes in front of him. She had been clearly uncomfortable doing that. And maybe that _was_ wrong on his part. But she wasn’t pushing him away despite all the kissing he was doing to her. So he was taking it as a yes.

She, on the other hand, wanted to scream _No. Stop. Get away from me._ But it was like her vocal chords refused to know these words. To form them. And some trembling part of her knew that if she refused, he would throw her out, or worse. He could do worse. Much, much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an extremely short chapter but i am on writer's block so this was the most i could write right now. Sorry about that. I'll try to keep the next few chapters longer. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and please leave kudos and comment if you enjoy!


	5. Nausea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Lee Sangbum wants, Lee Sangbum gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates and otherwise !!  
> A late Christmas update~~ So sorry i hadn't updated earlier but i didn't want to romanticise rape as most fanfictions tend to do, so i decided to wait and see how i could go about this.
> 
> TW// RAPE, VOMITING, CHOKING  
> This chapter contains rape. Hopefully it isn't too detailed that it makes you guys sick.

* * *

His hands are all over her. He is warm, so warm. So contrasting to the icy rigidity that has overcome her. With shaking hands, she unties all the laces around her dress, while he watches her, lips parted, his hot breath making gooseflesh break out on her skin. He pulls down the dress when all the strings holding it up are undone, and so, ends up kneeling in front of her. Just like how he had kneeled when he was strapping on the knife to her thigh. He presses a kiss to her thigh this time as he undoes the strap of the sheath, slipping it off her leg, but not looking up at her.

All she can see while he kneels in front of her is the top of his head, brown tousled hair. Shivers run down her spine, when she feels his mouth press to her. All she wants to do is cringe away from him. Recoil and go hide in a closet our something so he cannot find her. She is mostly naked. Just her underwear on, bare-chested and shivering. He still hasn’t looked up at her naked form. Just kneels there.

“Sweetheart,” he finally speaks, voice low, and unreadable. “Why don’t you wait in my room? I’ll be there in a second. And then I can show you how much I love you.”

He still doesn’t look up.

“I want nothing on you when I come there,” he calls out after her, when she scuttles away, momentarily relieved at being able to put distance between him and herself. There is a robe strewn haphazardly on the bed. She wants to cover herself with it. The nakedness was bothering her. Sangbum was bothering her.

But oh, how to say no. How to refuse. How to get out of here unscathed.

In her internalisation of the situation, she forgets Sangbum’s reque- command. To wear nothing when he enters. 

And so, when he comes in, she flinches back, against the wall. Still in underwear.

He sighs.

“So, first you let someone else touch you and now you don’t listen to me. Is that it? Is this how I am to be rewarded for so many years of being good to you?” He is disappointed, which is evident in his voice.

“I didn’t-“she tries, before she’s cut off.

“You didn’t what? Didn’t hear me? Because you were too busy dreaming of Mr Oh So Perfect?” He pushes her against the wall. She hits her head on it, a cry escaping her as pain flashes across her eyes.  
“Should’ve left you at that orphanage but _no,_ the old man wanted to teach me and dear brother a lesson on caring for things… and this is the repayment I get,” his hand trails over her, shaking form.

She trembles from fear, from the acerbic quality of Sangbum’s voice. He has never seemed this way. Not even when he was extremely angry. The venom dripping from his tongue was not one she was immune to. Her breast rises and falls, rapidly. Just on the verge of sobs, but pure shock keeps them suppressed. The pain at the back of her head still prickles every time she tries to struggle away from him and disappear into the wall.

One hand cups her breast while the other slides down down down. Where she doesn’t want him.

“Get away,” she sobs, a small pained noise. Her hands weakly pushing at his chest. The hand inside her underwear stops its explorations. Tears roll down her cheeks; she sniffles and tries to push him away again.

 _“I don’t want this, Sangbum. Please give me my clothes.”_ She whimpers. He pulls away from her, staring.

He sighs.

“You’re really incredible, you know that?” She slides down to the floor, now that Sangbum and fear aren’t holding her up against the wall. He gets down on a knee so he’s almost eye level with her. Almost, not quite.

“ _Take off your underwear.”_

She looks up at him, tears glistening.

“Sangbu-“

“I will not say it again, sweetheart. Just listen to me.” And there is no doubt in his tone about what comes next. He would take them off and he would do as he pleases and that would be it. Finality. Because in the face of this- his power- she’s powerless. And probably the only one who could’ve helped her is now miles away. Far from whatever pleading and screaming is to come next.

“Sangbum, _please,”_ she tries. One last time. She must.

“Alright you’ve left me no choice.” He pulls off his suit jacket, tossing it away carelessly. As though a family couldn’t feed from the money that would come from selling it. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking to the ceiling, tears at the verge of falling. Looking anywhere but at him.

A hand wraps around her throat, squeezing her trachea, stifling the scream that bubbled out. She scratches at the pale hand as her air runs out, blood thumping in her ears with growing pressure.

“ _Sang..bum-“_ she tries to speak but only a half choked syllable emerges. Through the dull red haze and black spots. Belatedly, she realises that Sangbum’s hand ripped away the thin slip of cloth keeping her from full nudity. The black spots in her eyes start growing larger till she is almost on the verge of unconsciousness.

He slides two fingers into her, roughly pushing them in and out. The insides of her thighs feel sticky, probably blood. There is no gentle intimacy she had dreamed of whenever she had thought of having sex for the first time. And never had she thought it would be with Sangbum that she would finally do it. Right, she wasn’t _doing it_ with him. This was rape.

He is going to rape her.

When she stops struggling away from him, he lets go of her windpipe. She coughs, wanting to retch up the food she ate but nothing comes up. Her hands flutter over the skin of her neck, knowing it will bruise. That was the least of her worries. Sangbum got up and stepped back undoing his cuffs, tie, buttons. Throwing the shirt away so he stood in his trousers. He took her by the wrist and hauled her up. She was not lightweight, but the ease with which he lifted her left her wondering in a corner of her mind exactly how much strength he had always used with her when teaching her how to fight. She could have won against anyone but him. Him and his twin.

He dragged her to the bed, naked torso gleaming in the light like marble, like a white python, muscles rippling under the pale skin.

She falls on the bed, soft and covered with a grey duvet. It is terribly cold, though. He clambers onto her, having discarded his trousers. He pulls her legs over his own, placing himself between her thighs, which are streaked with dried blood.  
“ _Please don’t hurt me, Sangbum,”_ she whispers.

“I’m not hurting you, baby, I love you.” He kissed her forehead and slid in. She hissed in pain, the torn skin burning from further stretch, he legs flailing around. He catches them and pins them around his waist, thrusting in and out while tears slide down her face. She covers her face and lets him do as he likes, not protesting when he angles her this way or that, chasing his own high, hands roaming all over the exposed expanse of her body. She climaxes, twice. Both unwillingly pulled from her body, the tension building in her unfamiliar and sickening. He pants, releasing inside her one last time, when she is on her knees, her bottom in the air, face pressed to the bed, held by the neck. Her legs feel sore, sticky and are shaking like autumn leaves in high wind.

He pulls out with a liquid squelch, and nausea rises in her. Collapsing sideways, she stares at the fourth wall of the room, the one made of glass. They are high enough that no one would have been able to see the scene happen. She wishes someone had seen. That someone had seen and come to save her. This was pathetic. _She was pathetic._

 _He is still in the room. Don’t you dare move. Don’t you dare let him know you are still in your senses or he will fuck you senseless._ She tells herself, trying to even her breathing. But the stickiness between her legs and the fluids oozing out of her are making her nauseous. She more senses rather than hears her rapist leave the room.

Finally, the food she had eaten at the party makes its reappearance. She scrambles to the edge of the bed and throws up the burning, acidic mixture. Her stomach cramps and seizes, making her dry heave.

“Blegh,” she groans. Tears are far right now. There is no emotion she feels at the moment, just physical pain, in her sex, her legs, and her waist. He kept her on her knees and ass in the air for far too long than what was comfortable.

She collapses back on the bed shivering, naked. Eyes swimming with tears, but still feeling nothing except the sense that something was inside her, violated her and is now gone. Perhaps she feels relief. She isn’t sure, though.

Her vision blurs from fatigue. Vaguely, she feels the duvet slide over her, covering her trembling body. One of the housekeepers comes in to clean up the vomit, she can see the grey and black silhouette of their uniform through her blurry eyes.

Someone slides into the bed next to her, stark naked and warm. She knows it’s Sangbum but she’s too far gone to protest or even flinch away from him. The man who raped her. One emotion slips through the mental/emotional block as her mind tries to shut its faculties off. To recuperate from the trauma that was to form.

Bloodlust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sexual abuse sucks big time. And victims often think they were "asking for it" or they could've "avoided it" by behaving a certain way. That's not true. If it happens then you're not at fault the perpetrator is at fault.  
> It is not always easy to speak up about something so personal and frightening but if you think you have ever underwent something like this try and get the perpetrator to justice.  
> It wasn't your fault, you weren't asking for it.


	6. The Beginning of Vindication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is goodness? Who is to blame for crimes? Are the victims as innocent as the perpetrators always?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a filler chapter. Just making foundations for the plot, don't mind. *carrying away the wheelbarrow full of deleted drafts*  
> I don't have a beta reader and this draft hasn't been rechecked so sorry for any errors ;(

* * *

“So, do we have a deal?” The man says. A carbon copy of Sangbum.

Namjoon stares at the man with clear disdain written on his face. He would rather deal with anyone else but not Lee Sangyeon. Unlike his twin, Sangyeon was calm and cool. And a genius. Where Sangbum was impulsive and cruel, like a sledgehammer, Sangyeon was like a scalpel, precise, deadly and killer accuracy.

And they were identical, so sitting in front of Sangyeon was like sitting in front of Sangbum and vice versa, which made Namjoon slightly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t let it show.

“Why isn’t Sangbum here?” He says, lacing his long fingers together and placing them on the table.

Lee Sangyeon looks up at the young man with ash grey hair and round glasses and tilts his head, regarding him analytically. Kim Namjoon was impressive with how much capital he had gotten under his mafia in the last half decade.

“Sangbum is indisposed.” Sangyeon replies simply, knowing what shenanigans his brother was up to. The girl is legally an adult. A woman, really. And Sangbum wishes to marry the woman. Frankly Sangyeon thinks the whole business is too dramatic and he doesn’t want to be a part of this but his love for his explosive brother keeps him there. Without Sangyeon, Sangbum will probably be dead within the week considering how many people want his breath snuffed out.

“Has he taken on the girl as his lover?” Namjoon surmises. He remembers the miserable look on Taehyung’s face when the gang refused to extract her from Sangbum. Taehyung had had two siblings, both much younger than him. A brother and a sister.

His sister was killed.

That’s all any of them have ever been able to get out of the young man. His brother committed suicide after the death of his twin.

Kim Taehyung is now sibling-less and looking for the man who effectively murdered his brother and sister. Perhaps the girl reminds him of his sister.

“Perhaps.” Sangyeon says, sounding bored. “I do not take much interest in my brother’s romantic conquests. He just fucks around with whoever opens their legs for him.” The older man shrugs, then looks at the young leader seriously.  
“I would suggest that you don’t get any ideas, Kim Namjoon. She is his property.” He inhales deeply, then sighs. “You do not touch Sangbum’s property. Unless you want your 6 brothers to die.”

Namjoon stiffens, bristling with anger, “Do not threaten me Lee-ssi. You are in my area right now. I have fifteen guns trained on you, you could die with a snap of my fingers.”

“But you won’t do that, young man, will you? No, you need the Turtle Bay deals which I am capable of brokering for you,” Sangyeon chuckles. “You are smart Namjoon, handing all the tough work to me. But you still lack some experience. I could give it to you. Come join us. You won’t have to figure everything out on your own. I could help you.”

Sangyeon sounds almost bored when he says this, as though Namjoon joining the twins wouldn’t be the biggest game changer in Korean mafia history. Internally however, Sangyeon knew his attempt was futile, that Namjoon loves the other six and would rather die for them than leave them.

Namjoon cleared his throat, “No, I want to stay with Bangtan, thank you for the offer. Don’t bring this up again.” He says quickly. The thought of leaving Bangtan was a frightening one. A sickening one really. So, he left it in the back of his mind, safely tucked away in a drawer inside another drawer which had a lock on it and then threw the key away.

“As you wish. Please remember the offer to join us still stands.” Sangyeon nods and gets up inclining his head in a half bow. Namjoon does the same.

The carbon copy of Lee Sangbum departs from Bangtan’s building in a sleek Mercedes. Namjoon pulls off his glasses. He needs to get a Lasik surgery done soon his eyes were getting worse.

Jin peeks his head in through another door, slipping the pistol in his hand into a holster on his waistband. Namjoon looks at his hyung, relief washing over him.

“Hyung..” His voice shakes slightly.

“You did well, Joon,” Jin says in the melodic baritone of his voice. If he hadn’t become a mafia, he could’ve been an idol. He definitely had the face for it. And the voice.

Namjoon sighs, shoulders slumping. Jin rubs a hand over his back.

“He still scares you?” Jin says in a low voice. Namjoon nods sniffling a bit. Jin kneads at the knots in Namjoon’s shoulders, evidence of the tension his dongsaeng had been shouldering regarding this meeting.

“Your hyungs will protect you, Joon. We’re here.” He pats the younger one’s back and turns to leave. Namjoon gets up and follows him to where the others wait.

The glass door swings shut as the planning of a murder begins.

______________________

She has not said a word to Sangbum for the past few days, communicating with nods and shaking of her head. Which was convenient since all he did was ask “yes/no” questions.

_Does she want to eat breakfast?_ Nod.

_Does she like the new dress?_ Nod.

_Does she enjoy being outside after so long?_ Nod.

_Does she want to watch a movie?_ Shrug. Nod.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as she sits beside him. At a respectful distance, which had always been the norm before. But unlike before, this stony silence wasn’t the norm. He is used to her smiles, and theories and discussions. But her face is blank when she sits cross legged next to him in sweatpants and his shirt, evidence of the night before.

He remembers the red flowering onto his pale fingers that night. The one they spent together for the first time. It’s been four days since, and she has not yet talked to him properly. Has he done something wrong? Maybe she has something on her mind. Should he ask her? Maybe it is best not to.

The movie ends, and he has no idea what he just saw except flashes of Venice and all the canals. He turns to her to ask her another “yes/no” question, then sees the thin half-moons scattered on her wrists and forearms.

_Did I do that?_ He thinks, looking at the thin red lines, so grotesquely like tiny smiles.

But no, the bleeding red smiles on her arms are products of her own frustration. Her nails had dug into her skin just a bit too hard during the shower where she had a nervous breakdown at the thought of Sangbum touching her again.

She runs a finger over them absent-mindedly when the end-credits roll in. The slightly raised welts give some sort of satisfaction, some brief reprieve from the numbness which seems to be settling in her chest. She feels his hand touch her shoulder briefly.

“Hey... what happened to your arms?” He asks carefully. This isn’t a “yes/no” question. She cannot trust herself to speak so she shrugs.

He removes his hand, settling back into the couch, twiddling his thumbs like a nervous teenage boy.  
He stares hard at them before saying, “It’s your birthday day after tomorrow.”

She nods.

“Do you want anything?” She looks at him then and her eyes are awful. Red rimmed and sunken, as if she hasn’t slept in the last few nights. He frowns but holds her gaze.

“I’m not sure… Anything works actually.” She smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes, just stops somewhere south of them. “As long as it’s from you.” She adds after a pause, inclining her head slightly.

The thinness of her gaze makes Sangbum struggle not to avert his eyes.

As if she is accusing him of something.

_______________________

Yoongi twirls the pen around his fingers with deftness. All he wants to do at the moment is sleep. And hopefully have Min Holly at his side because damn, the weather was getting cold.

The months profits were accounted for. The rate at which they were earning, scratch that, they weren’t earning. This wasn’t some cute day job. This was organised crime. Sometimes he wondered if they were good people. If anyone was completely good. Seokjin was the most gentle of them all. But was he a completely good person either?

He decided there was no point racking his brain for deep thoughts. They had to eliminate the Lee twins if they were to secure the bay area under their rule. That was ambitious for sure. But there was something gratifying about knowing you own an entire skyline. Something, however kept niggling at the back of his mind.

How many innocents had suffered for their crimes? Which eventually led to Taehyung’s teary eyes when it was confirmed that they won’t be extracting the girl from the spoilt prince.

Which begged the question again.

_Were they good men?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was sort of... philosophical. Sorry about that. Happy New Year everyone! Hope your year goes well.   
> As always thank you for reading and be sure to comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed!!


	7. Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ain't no rest for the wicked, child  
> When push comes to shove  
> It makes men cry.  
> So hold a knife and pledge thine mind  
> To pay back what was done in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter  
> Very  
> Like.... very.  
> Sorry I'm on a block but I'm trying to soldier though.

* * *

She has been raped for 30 days. She has been keeping count.

He has stopped asking her much. He gifted her a ring. A really pretty one. Probably worth a million dollars. Who cares? Her 19th birthday has passed without fanfare. Just a cake. A set of red lingerie which be ripped off without hesitation at night. (Red seems to be his favourite colour all of a sudden.) A visit from Sangyeon and his wife. And of course, the ring.

Their engagement ring, if the speech given by Sangbum before he presented it to her was any indication. 

He is dead set on marrying her. Now that she is considering things from his perspective, she realises why. Why he is so adamant on having her under his thumb.

_Because he’s an asshole._ She thinks. 

Yes, that’s true but also because- _He wants to beat Sangyeon. As usual. You should’ve seen it earlier. You knew this was gonna happen even before it happened. You were just too damn weak so you ignored it. You got too comfortable with him you idiot._

_Sangbum is the younger one. Always the second. Even in the matter of birth. Sangyeon always wins. He’s the smarter one. He’s the one who turned punishment into prize. Married the girl he was given to take care of. To deflate his ego. Just like you were given to Sangbum. He is using you to assuage his own inferiority complex. He thinks claiming you, making you his own will stop his need for constant reassurance._

The voice in her head is always a mocking one. Sometimes it gets annoying. Right now, though, it is lending her strength as she opens her legs for Sangbum again. To please his inferiority complex again.

_31_.  
__________________  
Sangbum rolls away from her, his skin sticky with sweat. A shower would be good. She lies there, eyes wide and glassy. He is getting annoyed as fuck. He was not marrying a doll. He didn’t want a living sex toy. He wants her because he loves her. Simple as that. So why is she always looking at him with accusing eyes. As if he is doing something wrong. Why does she barely heave a breath when he makes love to her? Why does he feel something terrible is about to go wrong?

Oh, he will ask her. And if she doesn’t have a very good lie, he is gonna beat the real answer out of her. Briefly he thinks of his brother. What would Sangyeon do in a situation like this? 

_I wouldn’t be in this situation dumbass._ Sangyeon’s voice, which was Sangbum’s own voice supplies the answer to him. Yes, he wouldn’t be in a situation like this. He was far to genius for it.

_Fucking prick. Always too smart for his own good. My way is faster._

He showers till the mirror is clouded with steam, and he can’t see his reflection in it. He wears a fluffy bathrobe. His house. He was gonna walk around in a bathrobe if he damn wants. There is no sound from the room where she still lies, eyes glassy and wide. With terrible accusation in them. 

He puts on a song on the uselessly expensive speaker. The music starts. Sounds like a 70s-Cop Movie theme. Except its not. The singer starts his treble tones.

_You’re a dreamer call me when you're Bieber._

_And when they play it, you can't help but sing along_   
_That's nothin' odd, that's nothin' wrong_

_'Cause a good song never dies._

He settles in the plush recliner, thinking of his to-be-wife, before sleep claims him, gently and easily. Sleep comes easy to children and bastards like him. 

It doesn’t come easy to her.

She blinks, slowly, deliberately as if trying to dislodge some hidden paralysis heart filled with terrible malaise. The feeling of violation so strong throbs in her chest and her sex and she feels it again.

Bloodlust.

_Ain't no rest for the wicked, girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "A good Song Never Dies" as mentioned in the Preface  
> The poem in the summary is written by me (sorry attempt I know)  
> As always thank you for reading!!


	8. Wicked Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sing song voice* Somebody's going to die tonight~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drink your fucking water.

* * *

_Ain’t no rest for the wicked, child._

Whoever said this was absolutely correct. Ain’t no rest for the wicked, child.

She rolls over, bloodlust thrumming in her veins. Finally, she feels like herself, after a month of feeling dead. There is a voice niggling at the back of her head. Of the blond man with the golden skin. The one who offered her protection. And he is encouraging her to kill.

She pulls on the satin chemise, pearly cream and reeking of expense. It reaches her mid-thigh. She peeks beyond the doorframe, that infernal 70s-cop theme playing throughout the house. But there is something to the beat which makes her heart beat faster, as though in the thrill of a chase.

A huntress leaving for her hunt.

Sangbum is snoring in the damned recliner of this damned apartment, in the seat where he fucked her two days ago. The rapidly forming knot in her chest tightens and with savage glee she crosses the corridor to her own room, where the beautiful, beautiful switchblade- which Sangbum had carefully strapped onto her the night this wedding bullshit began- sits in its cover.

The drawer pulls open silently, the knife is revealed silently, sliding out with a silent twitch, silver edge gleaming wickedly in the light.

The action is sure in her mind. She will kill him and go to Bangtan. The blond one, the kind one, will take her in and protect her. They are good men.

Sangbum had been a father to her when she was a wee little girl. So now, as she takes the steps to kill the man, hands holding the hilt of the knife tightly, left hand gripping right wrist, she can’t help but think she’s committing patricide.

An unwanted memory rises in her mind which she viciously strikes down, but not before the memory has taken its toll on her. _She is about thirteen. She has had a nightmare. She is sobbing in her bed when Sangbum knocks. She says a shaky “enter”. His face is less sharp than it will become in the future. He climbs into bed with her wordlessly and sings. His voice lulls her back to dreamland._

But the moment is enough for her to question what she is about to do.

 _Do I remain a good person after doing this?_ Her hands don’t shake the slightest. Why should they? He violated her. The punishment should be death. He violated her 31 times. She would be doing the world a favour if she kills this joke of a father, this hollow guardian off.

She creeps up the corridor.

The song is ending. The refrain stuck in her mind. _No, a good song never dies._ The satin chemise sticks to her with sweat. Her pulse is fast but her mind remains calm as Sangbum slips into her field of vision. The cold draft coming from AirCon chills the sweat beading at her neck. He is wearing nothing but a robe, pale marble skin exposed at the throat leading down to smooth musculature.

How she hates every bit of this man now… It’s an irony. Where she once used to idolise him, she is now going to kill.

He is snoring.

The bastard is snoring. How dare he enjoy a good night’s sleep when she has not been able to sleep a wink ever since the series of blasphemy began. The vicious part of her- the one that is like Sangbum, by all means for he was the one who made her this- this hidden monstrosity.

To kill a man in his sleep…

 _Coward._ The voice in her head sneers.

 _Pragmatic._ She offers back.

She stands 12 inches away from the sleeping form of Sangbum, the 6-inch switchblade ready in her hand. She does it carefully, places it just near his jugular where she can almost see the pulse thrumming, but does not let it touch him.

There is no wrinkle on his brow, sleeping face as peaceful as a baby’s. Breaths just as even.

She saw this in that horror movie. “It”. Where Henry kills his father just like this. A switchblade, a voice encouraging him and his own hand.

No Pennywise here to whisper in her ear here. Just her own dark side.

A soft smile hiding the savage glee she feels, she pushes the button setting the switchblade free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!  
> Really sorry about the length though, I'll try to make them longer.


	9. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has killed him. She is free. Or at least she thinks so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying reading this story just as much as i am enjoying writing it. With exams coming up i don't have much time to write but i will surely keep updating even if it's a really short chapter

* * *

Sangbum’s eyes snap open as the blood splatters on her face, a choked half breath escaping his gaping mouth.

The night is silent to her ears, the music has faded to background noise.

There is just the pain in his neck and his ebbing consciousness. A small figure slides into his view. She wipes the blood next to her mouth, smearing it across her cheek and hands.

_His blood._

“Ba-“ His last word remains unfinished. He dies. His body goes limp.

She lets out a shuddering breath.

Blood gurgles from the wound in his throat, dark red and smooth. Smoother than water. Thicker. Is it already starting to coagulate?

Her “father” stares at her with unseeing eyes, two thin lines of red dripping from the corners of his mouth. She steps back from the recliner. The one in which her murdered father now sits. Will probably sit till he is moved by someone else.

_No, a good song never  
Dies._

Music plays in the apartment, bouncing off the immaculate walls. Now, her breathing is easy, her mind is alert. Battle cold. Except she just killed a man in his sleep. She killed her father, her guardian, her only protector in his sleep. The enormity of the situation is slowly dawning on her.

The hand holding the knife trembles, the blood-slick blade almost slipping to the floor. The front of her flimsy satin nightwear is stained from the blood squirting out of the man, reddish-brown dots against silver.

_I look like a koi_. She thinks absentmindedly. There is creeping terror in her mind but she cannot let it take hold over her right now. So, she focuses on other things. Like her nails!

Her nails look amazing stained with dark red. How beautiful would she look if stained all over with it? Against the tan, golden skin, dark red would look amazing. The panic is creeping in again.

Now she has to move. She has to get to Bangtan.

The other side of Seoul houses Bangtan’s building. A steel and glass monolith. She can find it. She’s seen it before. She knows how to drive.

Looking down at herself, she realises the flimsy satinwear wouldn’t do. She scrambles to her dresser and finds the red dress. The infernal blood red colour matching the one staining her skin. She doesn’t wash off the blood, just pulls on a jacket over the dress. Gotta have some dramatics saved if she has to convince Bangtan that Sangbum is dead and she has come to the blond man for protection.

She flees into the night wearing her red dress. The very dress which was so carefully put on her body and then peeled off of her skin by one and the same person.

Drama. Drama. Drama.

She loves the drama. And the drama is easier to focus on than the realisation of being a murderer, committing practically patricide and being an overall ungrateful spoilt brat.

_Oh, c’mon he raped you. You have done the right thing._ The voice in her head tells her.

And for the time being, she believes the smug little train of thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story. It's slow going but we'll get there!!


	10. Easy Come, Easy Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is finally with Bangtan. They will protect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been two weeks since my last update. Had no motivation... Exams starting up soon so my brain is fried. Sorry for not updating. It's a short chapter but i hope you enjoy. ^_^

* * *

The song keeps playing, one earphone tucked into his collar the other pouring music to rein his wild thoughts.

_And when they play it, you can't help but sing along  
That's nothin' odd, that's nothin' wrong_

He hums along the tune and runs a hand against the cold cheek. Their eyes are wide, still. Absolutely still. They don’t blink when he pulls out the knife from their shoulder and wipes the blood on his jeans, the don’t whimper when he pulls another knife from their thigh and tucks its blade back in. The song’s bridge sends a rush down his spine. How he loves this music. His lips stretch into a smile, revealing his gums and pure glee.  
He pulls out one final knife from right under their pectoral, a serrated edged, wicked blade. Pink soft flesh clings to it which he flicks off with his thumb and forefinger. Blood dribbles from the opening he carved into the human in front of him. He idly rubs his bloodied hands on his coat, the black swallowing the infernal red.   
There is a small diner down the road, about half a mile from the clearing where he stands. Hopefully they serve a good hamburger. Did he have his purse? He has it. Hamburger it is then.

The song is coming to its end. This mixtape has his favourite songs. The cassette player is tucked safely into his pocket. He has pulled on his gloves, though it will not matter much in a few hours. 

_No, a good song never  
Dies._

“Yoongi, let’s go,” he is being called. He turns and gives his gummy smile.  
“Yeah, I’ll treat you all,” he says checking his purse for cash. “Hamburgers and steaks.”  
The blonde-haired man who called him swings an arm around his shoulder.  
The body burns to oblivion and ashes behind the seven.

A storm is coming their way. Lee Sangbum was declared dead just as Min Yoongi’s victim, the owner of Hansung Corporation was slain quickly and quietly, the victim bleeding out, the body burnt, evidence pointing to the victim’s rivals carefully laid out by Bangtan. Killing two birds with one stone.

Nah, they weren’t good men.

_And it doesn’t fucking matter._ Yoongi thinks, loving Jungkook’s warm arm around his tense and cold shoulders.

He is always cold after a kill, the sadistic smile just a cover for how his brain stutters seeing life disappear so easily form behind someone’s eyes. Just… _off._ Like a light switch.

_Easy come, easy go._

His brain keeps supplying random lyrics, a kaleidoscope of words and notes and tunes and jingles and underneath all of it constant anxiety which only gets relieved when he has something physical grounding him. Which for now, is Jungkook, his maknae, his baby brother. The one he raised.

His tether.

________________

Her hands are shaking, so she grips the steering wheel tighter. The golden boy’s face swimming in and out of focus in the eye of her mind. Bangtan’s glass and steel monolith is visible on the skyline. A spire stabbing the sky with savagery. And in the light of the rising sun, everything painted in shades of red and orange, she can almost believe the sky itself is bleeding.

The drive was almost 5 hours, and she now stands in front of the sliding glass doors, back ram-rod straight. The city is waking up behind her and she herself is going to begin a new life where she will be safe and sound.

No more overthinking on how Sangbum will react to her. No more doubting if she was the one at fault. No more being scared.

She steps in.

____________

Yoongi is fiddling with one of his earphones when the lobby doors slide open. There is a figure standing there. Slender, wearing some sort of dress. The lighting and her hair however, obscure her features, so in the misty morning she looks like a wraith.

He grips a knife in his pocket, the same one with which he killed Kim Hansung. The serrated one. He is on edge, as always.

And she isn’t making any move after stepping in. Just stands there… crying? Her shoulders are shaking. He takes a step towards her, but then realises she’s…

…laughing.

She tosses her head back and sighs a deep sigh, turning to look at Yoongi.

“Hello, there,” she says in a sweet, sweet voice.

The hair at the back of his neck stand up in attention. Her hands are tucked in her pocket, fist clenched. _Does she have a gun?_ He takes a step closer, slowly, carefully.

She has made no move yet, but he isn’t gonna trust that sweet innocent look she’s giving him.   
  


“What’s in your pocket?” He growls. The others are gonna be there soon, he cannot bear the risk of this girl shooting any of them.

Now that her face is visible, he sees blood splattered on her, dark drying brown, but blood all the same. Beneath the coat she wears a dress of the colour of fresh blood, a delicate little number reaching below mid-thigh, and the coat which reaches below that, almost to her knees.

Her eyes are bright and clear, if a little too manic for Yoongi’s comfort.   
“Take your hands _out_ of your pocket,” he reiterates, grip tightening on the gun.

She sighs and removes her hands out. They are stained crimson, the blood thick enough that it still hasn’t dried properly, staining the pockets’ edges. He then notices the switchblade in her hand. Pretty little thing. More for show than actual use.

His grip doesn’t relax on the gun but he feels better knowing she won’t be shooting him or Bangtan at point blank range. He can hear the others now. Jungkook and Jimin thundering down the emergency stairs, racing to get there first. The others are probably in the elevator.

Yes, he hears the door open spilling out the low voices of the rest of the members of Bangtan, their shoes squeaking on the immaculately clean marble, then the footsteps coming to a halt as they take in the sight of the smiling woman, and Yoongi who is poised to strike.

It is Taehyung who breaks the bated silence, “You came.” His voice comes out hushed, but in the silence of the morning it is clearly audible.

“Help me, please,” she says, the smile morphing into a broken ironic grin as tears cut streaks into the dried blood on her face.

“Help me.” Her eyes roll back into her head.

Taehyung rushes forward to catch her as she faints. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, if you enjoyed don't hesitate to leave kudos it motivates meee


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